


Prologue: Metamorphose

by RAW_SYNTH3TICA



Series: Transcendence [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Childhood Memories, Choking, M/M, Original Character Death(s), POV First Person, Pre-Canon, Pre-Slash, Psychological Torture, The Force
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-15 09:30:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5780629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAW_SYNTH3TICA/pseuds/RAW_SYNTH3TICA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux's POV - Prologue of 'Shadow of the Dark'</p><p>Both Kylo Ren & General Hux are uneasy partners aboard the Death Star II, neither feel obligated to anger the other, it just seems to happen. </p><p>As General Hux pushes Kylo Ren just a little too far, he finds himself questioning the Dark Side & finds Kylo Ren to be interesting to say the least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ALL IS FICTIONAL & NOT MINE. 
> 
> i never really wrote about Kylo Ren & Hux's relationship before 'Shadow of the Dark', so here you are~

> Never in my forty-three-thousand hours have I been so paralyzed in fear.
> 
> “Hush,” a female voice hisses into my ear, I pay no heed, my small body thrashes against hers', she warns, “Stop that Now-”
> 
> “Mother!” I scream, just paces away are the bodies of my parents, both being held at point by several blasters, they see me and I yell just short of a breath, “Father!”
> 
> My ears were ringing, my eyes burned, my throat was coarse and dry, my nose steamed, my lungs were empty, my bones ached, my muscles throbbed, my stomach twisted, my heart tried escaping through my stomach – the noise, the sound of numerous wailing intermingling the pleading cries – long arms wrap around my body and I am spirited away.
> 
> Within the hull of a ship, there are many children alike me age-wise, some of us being middle-class citizens, some are the children of fighters of the Republic, others are children whom are wards of the Old Republic – none are alike me, no one other than I can call himself the child of a high-ranking Senator of the Republic.
> 
> I cry, long and hard as each one of us are herded into small isolation chambers fit only for mindless creatures, we wait, I cannot hear any other voice than my own, the images of my mother and father flash before my eyes as sleep evades my tired body.

“General Hux,” I glance back over my shoulder, an officer stands at attention and says, “You are needed at once on deck.”

“Of course,” my arms are clasped at my lower back as I turn away from the blank wall upon an uneventful corridor, my lack of surprise of my wandering course from the adjacent hall almost seems redundant, I ask after he has not moved and began the next hour of his own task, “Anything else?”

“You are also scheduled for Desensitization at the end of the siege-” he answers, the tilt of his helmet is a telltale sign that he will soon be needing a monitor due to his forgetfulness, there may be no room for errors, yet Supreme Leader Snoke prefers absolute dedication to ones' task, “All upon your sector are to attend and complete their courses, respectively.”

Something new – I give FN-1549 my full attention.

“Tell me-” my mind processes the new information given and make sure to give the announcement soon after my departure; then, I wonder if I would need to escort the prestigious Kylo Ren to the throne room, “-Any orders from Supreme Leader Snoke?”

“No,” FN-1549 answers, oddly, my building anticipation seems as if to deflate upon the admission of the circumstances, though my self-understanding may point out that I was evaluating the chance to impress Supreme Leader Snoke, “He is indisposed of for the time being.”

Supreme Leader Snoke is never 'impressed', only Kylo Ren seems the most likely to make a susceptible effect, nothing seems amiss with my sound logic dictating my...disappointment.

“No other scheduled activities?” without awaiting his response, I begin my trek along the corridor as he follows along.

“Sir?” he asks.

“That will be all, FN-1549,” my answer is kept dubious, noncommittal, dishonest in the least and lacking my dull interest.

The siege has been canceled, due to low energy levels from the delayed absorption of the last sun, we had failed to recharge the Sunkiller Base in our eagerness to flush out the Resistance, being that they had also awaited our arrival from the last universe and we were forced to flee – another unplanned event, another disappointment.

Anger wells up and brimming along the tip of my tongue, my feet carry me quickly back to my private quarters, entering, I refuse to allow myself the minute of relaxation and wallow upon the air of tension, it keeps me more or less ineffective to idleness if I stand rather than be seated...

> I cower beneath the vast projection of the one called Supreme Leader Snoke, my eyes cast upward as my head grinds atop the stone floor, the female Storm Trooper that had previously dragged me aboard the captive's vessel stood before me at my side in the vast room, my tears had long ago formed a thin film of salt crystals over my cheeks, I kneel and hold unto myself as if in immense pain – nothing, it seemed, would have filled the emptiness in my heart where my parents once dwelt, as if in my mind I knew the truth of their death long before their life force was seared from their bodies.
> 
> “The boy,” the projection's booming voice left my body vibrating the lower he rumbled, I could only manage to sob even harder beneath his scrutinizing gaze, my entirety shivering as he unleashed a black fury to press me unto my stomach and squeeze the air from my chest, “He is weak. Overcome with emotion.”
> 
> “But he may provide us with insight-” the female Storm Trooper says, her voice is high and serious, though not one to be mistaken for 'young', she never once glances at my prone form as I glare desperately at her unmoved stature, “-he is the son of Senator-”
> 
> “A Senator,” from the admission, the weight pressing my body inward had suddenly lifted, and I take a breath, another, and another, almost as if to deny myself the death I longed for, “Very well, you may have him only if you take him under your supervision. His education is entirely up to you, Phasma.”
> 
> What education?
> 
> My education on Republic grounds included knowledge of energy projection, advanced hand-to-hand and marksmanship, universal physics, terrestrial and inorganic biology, mapping and galactic coordinate reading...this next phase in my life was supposed to be devoted to remembering historical archives of the Republic and the Jedi, the last of my study that I was devoting the rest of my days to once completing my junior education, my father groomed me to be a self-sufficient politician for after he steps down and becomes a permanent citizen of Chandrila.
> 
> The emptiness grew, as if my chest homed the deepest black hole ever birthed from the death of a sun and thusly bestowing unfathomable darkness, I felt weightless from the disappointment and the knowledge that I was indebted unto those wielding the Dark Force, a fear so great filled the growing hole in my heart, I was at once bombarded with the understanding that I may never complete my training, nor face the Galactic Senate as my father hoped, nor see outside of these black walls and the linear architecture of the Death Star.
> 
> “My sincerest gratitude, Supreme Leader Snoke,” the Storm Trooper named Phasma says, she shows no amount of happiness over the projection's decision, my stomach twists into a knot as she gathers me up in her arms.
> 
> A prison!
> 
> This warring planetoid made of iron and anger manifested is to hold me for as long as I breathe!
> 
> “Not too sincere I hope,” came the projection's booming reply, I cringe and burrow deeply into her armor as if to shut out the resounding voice shaking the very cells in my head.
> 
> Her blaster rifle presses against my head, she states calmly, offense and anger painted the tone of her voice, as if she were disgusted by the thought of the projection's words, “If you are questioning my attachment or if I pity the boy-”
> 
> “I admire your efficiency, Phasma,” the thundering voice boomed once more, I could contain the hysterical yell behind my lips no longer, I begged both Forces of Light and Dark to afford me the silence I so wished for, he answered as if I were nothing more than a stray amoeba beneath his boot, “Your absolute competence is an attribute I deem fit for all my officers.”
> 
> “He will be a productive member of the Dark Force, Supreme Leader,” Phasma's hand drops the blaster, the sling around her back keeps the weapon from hitting the floor and marring the stone, she encloses my mouth with her gloved plam and the silence I wished for begins, “I will make sure of it.”
> 
> The silence never ends, and alike a wall, it clasps me in it's icy embrace, an empty chasm of soundless darkness surrounds my waking hours, only in ordered chaos do I feel in the slightest...relieved.

From the corner of my peripheral vision, I catch the slightest glimpse of long dark robes, and a controlled energy which seems to leave a burning chill in it's wake – I rise and stride out of my private quarters, just several paces before me is Kylo Ren's long form, he strides easily, forward and untoward Supreme Leader Snoke's throne room, his gait is smooth and efficient, whilst I match his speed and stay at his heel.

We synchronize unwittingly, almost as if we shared the same mind, my jaw tightens as we enter the vast hall where Supreme Leader Snoke's silhouette flickers upon the iron ore throne we had erected in his honor, the grimace upon his face shows his apparent displeasure, I share his sentiments, Kylo Ren's personal input is as always, a mystery carefully hidden beneath his dark robes and his apparatus – if only I were privy to keep my own enraged expressions private.

“Forgive us, Supreme Leader Snoke,” I begin before we reach the halfway point between the doorway and the throne, Supreme Leader Snoke's frown deepens, curiously so, yet not at all astonishingly.

“You seek my forgiveness?” Supreme Leader Snoke hisses, the sound bounces off the walls and resounds in my head until I hear a deep ringing inside my ears, he states, “The Resistance laughs and their cheers echo deep unto the galaxy.”

Satisfaction is one such state of mind that Supreme Leader Snoke never achieves, and in that purpose, we work twice as hard to complete his given tasks as quickly and efficiently as we possibly can, though the fault was in engineering for not checking on the power levels of the Death Star, we are all to blame in the same respect, I quickly try to explain, “We received intel of our nearness to a Resistance nest and we enacted-”

“Too soon, too foolishly!” his insurmountable voice wreaks such havoc on the nerves and my ears that for a while I am completely disoriented by his outburst, I glance at Kylo Ren's back for only a second and see that he has not moved a single muscle, he stands at attention whilst Supreme Leader Snoke shakes the Death Star's sector, “Remember to wipe out an entire solar system if it takes you-”

As if reading my mind of my split-second distraction, Supreme Leader Snoke suddenly breathes, his holographic chest expands and deflates as his eyes roll from Kylo Ren to myself, my flush of shame betrays the stoicism I attempt at projecting outward, his arms clasp over the other and his lips tighten, “You disappoint me, General Hux.”

“I vow never to disappoint you again, Supreme Leader Snoke,” my words pour out quickly, not for the sake of postponing the scolding, but because I truly believe that my own strength in enforcing order and conformity will make an impressionable difference – placated, Supreme Leader Snoke inclines his head to listen, “Soon, the Resistance will bow before you whilst Kylo Ren beheads their leaders, I will, rest assuredly, unleash Your superior wrath. Galaxy by galaxy.”

A flicker, a gust, and Supreme Leader Snoke's image is washed away in the single conduit bar of filtered light falling from the crest of the Death Star's surface, leaving Kylo Ren and myself in the vast darkness pulsing and thudding with the rhythm of our breaths; he turns upon his heel and strides past me, I follow closely behind, he darts away as I try to match his pace.

“You needn't be so distrustful, Kylo Ren-” I say, his strides continue onward to the lower levels of the Death Star, “-We are all on the same side.”

“Supreme Leader Snoke only tests you and leaves me his duty to cleanse the galaxy of those whom oppose,” his vocal feedback leaves little to the imagination of his anger, though I only thought to reassure him of our being left in Supreme Leader Snoke's good graces, just hearing his annoyance spurs me on.

“My understanding is that you came from the Light,” my rebuttal is only an observance, a small fact that I had remembered long ago when I was at first assigned to be his personal escort to Supreme Leader Snoke's chambers; I ask almost feeling the slight tingle of smugness, “Am I to believe that you won't betray Supreme Leader Snoke as you had your lineage?”

“My honor substantiates my fidelity to the Dark Side,” he easily answers, he at once slows his gait and turns the corner, I easily follow in case I am needed in the current sector, “None could be said for your own doubtful...sire.”

The planet from which I originate is no secret, it is preferred by Supreme Leader Snoke that we hold no inner surreptitious facts nor emotions which tie us to our pasts, he forbids the harboring of emotions – we, the inhabitants of the Death Star, believe that unreleased anger creates tension, which then leads to unrest, and upon spending the excess of our energy honing our hand-to-hand skills alleviates upheaval – we reach the training grounds, I stand offside, merely observing, I ask, “No sons nor clones of Fett are we, wouldn't you say, Kylo Ren?”

Probability dictates that I have less than one percent surviving his legendary anger and the deadly skill of his wielding of his lightsaber.

“Keep your appetite in check, General,” he rumbles inside his apparatus, for a millisecond, I felt his presence in my mind, skimming over my intentions and making me feel as if the floor beneath my feet was a wobbly plank over a hole, “Being talentless and a waste of oxygen holds no sway over me, pitied Senator's whelp.”

Long ago, the emotional ties evoked by belittling my father's name had been severed, my mind pauses only for a moment and I observe the space between his lightsaber and my chest, the bright crimson lance of energy threatens to touch me, I meet the 'eyes' of his apparatus.

“You wound me, Kylo Ren,” I say despite myself, knowing that he had the ability to take my life if he so wished, I made no illusions that I feared death as much as disappointing Supreme Leader Snoke, the lightsaber is gone in a flash of red, “It may be as you say, but I find 'traitor' no where written in my DNA. Or 'Prince'.”

“All the more reason to stay clear of my path-” he evenly answers, his technique is as quick as the flick of my eyes, I imagine him fighting an entire rebel force and laying waste to their warriors; I have grown seemingly immune to his threats long ago and I log them away in case he decides to enact upon his split-second prognostications, “-or you may Find yourself as a smear upon my legacy.”

“Temper,” I mean to sate his mounting anger, yet it has the opposite affect, “Control yourself, Kylo Ren.”

As if witnessing the instantaneous blaster cutting holes through my parents, my body is cataloging the freezing burn of his energy coursing through me, concentrating upon my upper torso and constricting so gradually that the pain is fresh and acute, his left hand gives a testing curl of his fingers and suddenly, I can hear him in my head, his voice is different, not loud nor controlled, it is intrusive all the same, “You provoke me.”

Was that a warning or an invitation?

“Facts are facts, I confirmed what I heard,” my breath is labored, strained, and at once, he drops me unto my knees, I stand from the floor and consider aloud, “Prince of what, I wonder.”

Scarcely, I recall coming to the medical wing, perhaps I had revealed too much of my curiosity and provoked Kylo Ren more than I should have pushed, an invitation it is – soon, he may find himself without a throne or a master to fall back on.


	2. Chapter 2

> I remember that my bedroom in Chandrila retained all luxuries that children could ask for: rare trinkets from other planets that I had never taken another look upon once they were bestown unto me, expensive toys and the newest droids, a fluffy bed fit for five grown humans, the softest fabrics in the latest designs made only for my small frame.
> 
> The only lifestyle I knew was that of one equal to royalty.
> 
> Rooms in the vast military ship for a common Storm Trooper was simply a pod, one stacked upon the other in shelves, within the shelves was an alcove which measured one-meter by two-and-four-fifths-a-meter by one-meter, inside was a simple padded mattress and a heat-reflective blanket, the only three luxuries afforded was temperature-control, sound-proof walls and door, and a single tube light over the door.
> 
> Crates upon crates, boxes upon boxes, tiny chambers which seals off sounds and separates each body into a singular unit, too clearly do I recall being packed away into a cubicle – many small bodies like myself were stripped, given crude anti-microbe showers, given simple black sleeved shirts and trousers, our original clothing burned in furnaces at the Death Star's pit, no meals were made, we were instead forced to choke down a tasteless porridge and a kind of bread-like substance, then escorted to a series of turbolifts which transported us from shelf to shelf – I was shut in at the very top.
> 
> Lacking formality and welcome, the escorting Storm Trooper shoved me through the cubicle's door, and zipped off unto another platform across the open space.
> 
> There was no escape and yet I peered over the open cubicle door, my head spun the longer I looked down, further and further, nothing but the shine of sound-proof glass and the dull glow of children met my gaze as they stared back from behind their own cubicle doors – some pounded their fists or shoulders soundlessly against the solid glass, others resigned to their chamber mattresses and lay in tight fetal positions beneath their blankets, more seemed less likely to breathe as they heaved and wailed mindlessly at the ceiling of their cubicle – and before I could decide on climbing down or jumping to my welcomed-doom, the same Storm Trooper shoved me further back into the cubicle and punched a button atop the door, the glass slid down and my chance at freedom passed.
> 
> It seemed that wishing for silence had suddenly become an inconvenience, for if I quieted my breathing for just a moment, I could hear the distant whistle of blaster shots, one after the other as if I were still aboard my parents' vessel, a nozzle pressed against my head and firing over and over, my skull pounds as my heart thuds echo inside the dim cubicle.
> 
> My first Desensitization session after my sleepless 'night' was the worst:
> 
> The beginner's course was simply an evaluation, where a group of children and myself were ethically restructured in a bare classroom setting; at first was the aptitude test, then a lesson in weapon usage, a part two to the weapon usage in how to fire at critical zones on the body of any species, semi-basic military strategy and basic all-terrain survival, basic hand-to-hand if our weapons are defunct, and lastly came an oral dose of...the 'anger'.
> 
> Why do I refer to the dose as the 'anger'?
> 
> First comes the jitters, as if a million insects were tearing into my bones, secondly, the overpowering paranoia, thirdly, boiling anger that sears all thought from the mind, and lastly, the explosion – a group of boys fighting to the near-death was likely to be the ultimate goal of these first years of Desensitization, and there seemed no end in sight as I simply watched, my fists balled at my sides and my face a mask of rage, a rage so absolute and devastating that I would have killed every living thing in my path were I given the power – yet, I stood until the last conscious child would march my direction, what I lacked in reckless abandon, my peers lacked imperial training of the weaponless arts.
> 
> My understanding now of the course was that the lessons were designed to both inform and to strike sensations of fear and anger deeply into our minds collectively so that we had little chance to rebel, I could not control one or the other being that they seemed to be the same interchangeable states of mind, I could once differ dread from rage, but the 'lessons' evoked both before full understanding could change my confusion, the blend was almost as if feeling alike a supernova devouring all in it's destructive path, little did I know that this very sensation was the awakening of the Dark Force.
> 
> I should have felt honored in the dawning of my dulled emotions, and yet, I only felt a tangible amount of anger for not understanding What evolution was taking place in me, the more infuriated I was, the more I feared my own potential, the more I was inclined to obeying the head Storm Trooper teaching us our 'lessons' and heeding the call of Supreme Leader Snoke, the more I became disengaged from my own memories and withdrawn into my own self, a storm of disassociated sensations and disconnected recollections.
> 
> Being that my ability was so nearly insignificant, Supreme Leader Snoke and a Knight of Ren had never sensed a disturbance in the Force as they evaluated me on my seventh-thousandth hour since my birth, they passed me unnoticed as I was presented before them – it was also the hour for which Phasma had prepared herself for: the beginning of my true education to be her superior and one day take over the Death Star.

“Don't worry,” I open my eyes as a medic pauses at the foot of the allotted hospital bed and checks the spike in my vital signs, my hands are cold and damp as well as my head, I swing my legs from the bed and sit up abruptly, there is no time to waste, no time to sleep for even if it were for recuperation from my last brush with Kylo Ren, and yet my hands do not cease shaking, I say evenly, “It was only a...thought.”

“Of course, sir,” the officer answers, I continue pulling on my uniform trousers over my under-layers and my officer's jacket almost as if I were in a hurry, “About the Desensitization session-”

“Yes, I'll be along shortly,” my reply is curt, I wring my hands to rid myself of the tremors which refuses to relinquish the officer's attention; remembering my encounter seemingly several sleep-cycles past, I ask offhandedly, “Has Kylo Ren completed the session?”

“Cannot say, sir,” the officer says, at once snapping his eyes from my shaking hands, “It is the business of Supreme Leader Snoke and himself, no one else is privy to this knowledge.”

The officer's reply leaves me no other choice than to resort to capitalizing on my higher rank, and so I indulge by way of a stern question, “Is there no written law proclaimed by Supreme Leader Snoke that no one shall withhold information of another's whereabouts?”

“He has been on reconnaissance upon Republic airspace,” he instantly answers, fearing the possibility that I have the right to report him as insubordinate, a label All of the Death Star strive to avoid, he elaborates to my satisfaction, “As of ten hours ago, he returned with valuable information of the Resistance-”

So the Prince still lives.

“That will be all,” I stand upon the spotless floor, my movements quick as I slip one arm then the other into my padded overcoat, I step into my boots and straighten my outfit, the officer stares on expectantly – he blinks at me stupidly as I state the obvious he seems to have a hard time grasping, “I suppose he is now at the training grounds.”

“Yes, sir,” he agrees readily, as if to be rid of my presence and the fear of my high rank, almost as a formality, he asks, “Shall I arrange transport?”

“No, it won't be necessary,” I muse to myself; my fingers make quick work of my gloves as I pull them over my hands, my fingers flex within the orderly confines and suddenly, a new bout of shivers erupts inside my palms, I clutch my hands at my side and begin on my way to the place I was forbidden as a child, “About my Desensitization, is there time? Before my scheduled session, that is?”

“When ever you are free to report, sir,” he answers, I continue alone in the privacy of my own mind:

> Having seen my potential after the evaluation of each child, I was nearing my hundred-thousandth hour of life and Phasma being past her one-hundred-and-seventieth hour, she was allowed at long last to take me from the stacked cubicles and house me in her room for the time being – not for the sake of forging a bond sacred to siblings, only so that she may judge for herself whether to trust me as a leader and an ally before I take charge of the Death Star in my later life, Phasma herself was evaluating me and judging whether to execute me or to have me as her acolyte – to her amazement, she found me to be completely independent and equally full of insatiable wonder for all the goings-on in her station, and to my dismay, was kept private.
> 
> The Desensitization session this next interval of my life was new: being that my older body had grown resistant from within to the orally-taken 'anger' doses, Phasma had seen to it that I was to be escorted from the study wing, a mixture of cold desperation and dread hummed in the blank recesses of my being, she closed the metal clasps on the gurney I was lying prone upon, her eyes alit with dark pride as she brushed my hair aside, a gesture so that I may recall the Knight of Ren's face whilst I endured my first Desensitization session meant for those possessing stronger spirits, she said, “Let him in.”
> 
> Once, after we had completed a joint-trial with the remaining Fett, she led the way to her quarters; we sat facing away from each other whilst in the middle of stripping out of our sweat-soaked clothing and changing into a dry pair, she asked plainly, “Do you hate me, Hux?”
> 
> The enshrouded face of the Knight of Ren flashed before my eyes, where I should have felt the tendrils of sadness and grievance for lastly being fully initiated unto the teachings of the Dark Side – I felt Nothing.
> 
> I bore the smallest amount of self-consciousness, not for myself but in the cause truth that I am alas free of my human sensations – no bitter stab of sadness pierced my Desensitized self, I was enclosed in a skin made of cold steel, given life by a heart that neither slowed nor quickened at the thought of my unavenged parents' death, I should be alarmed as I had been at first seeing the Knight of Ren, my mind should be in peril of the killing of emotional roots – the small amount of Force within me darkened, alike the blackest bosom of an unestablished dimension free of Light.
> 
> Where had the deep love for my parents gone?
> 
> Did the Knight of Ren vaporize my unmovable connection to them?
> 
> My shoulders remain lax whilst before I would have tensed and bristled at the sound of her voice, I ask, “Should I?”
> 
> “Perhaps-” Phasma pulls on the last of her off-duty garments and strides to the table where our edibles tray awaits, I sit across from her as she says, “-it is best that you do.”
> 
> Phasma's private quarters sit in a span of five by five-meters, the angular architecture serving as nothing more than a reminder of the tiny cubicles I spent a fraction of my life within, the flat walls displaying black sound-proof tiles, at the farthest ends are hers' and my own padded sleep paddocks, no furniture other than a single table and a pair of stools – without the overpowering sensation of sorrow, I now feel an overpowering isolation, even whilst us two inhabit the same space, she seems as a figure made of alloy and given a human face – her clear blue eyes hold mine in flat reverence.
> 
> I no longer feel the need to pinch my face in embarrassment as I had done previous times before in her presence, the action of wasting energy upon conveying facial cues of my dissatisfaction seems irrelevant, my mind wanders back on the time she had taken me from the protective shielding of my parent's bodies, or 'tearing' me away from their grasp I should recall – she had the choice to kill me, and yet she took special care to bring me up, little did I know that all female staff were to take interest in adopting a student at least Once in their seven fractions of their lives, Phasma had started early so that she may be able to differentiate an obedient student from an insubordinate student – in other words, I was an experiment.
> 
> Free from judging her past impressions upon me, I rummaged in my mind which was now free of emotional clutter: I was alive because of having been chosen by Phasma, she oversaw my training in the early years and vied that I should be given special attention in the form of merciless training, she saw potential and was satisfied by the intellectual growth I demonstrated, she raised me at merciless standards than any prospective-Storm Trooper at the ultimate price of my emotions.
> 
> Though I was vexed to no longer feel a desolate pain from loss, now I feared for my life, I angered easily and had grown almost a kind of calm fasçade in the face of fragile rage, my anger made me act upon the basis of revenge solely for Myself and for the greater advantage for Supreme Leader Snoke's servants.
> 
> “But you saved my life,” I answer, she takes only a solid mass of gastric filling as repast rather than the modified beginner's crude porridge and tasteless bread, she had made it clear prior to my tutelage that we would no longer need to ingest excessive amounts of sustenance and would soon only be reliant on water and the gastric masses; I swallow my liquid mouthful and elaborate at the slow blink of her eyes, “You saved me from being slaughtered with the rest of the crew.”
> 
> Her unlined face almost breaks into a facial expression as she once more reverts back to her seemingly bored self, a fleeting emotion tells of her need to complete a refresher course – I look on, logging away the quiver in her eyebrows and a slight reddening in her corneas.
> 
> An allergic reaction?
> 
> Impossible, we are housed in sterilized quarters and have been purged of sickness-causing genes, I wait patiently for her answer, being that we can do nothing else if we are not campaigning on another planet.
> 
> “I 'saved' you, Hux-” she says, her voice suddenly becomes as cold as her exterior, as if to hide her flaw, “-so that you could suffer alongside me.”
> 
> Her quick fingers push her vitamins through her mouth, she gulps the water and stands as straight as a droid, her lightless eyes never leaving mine.
> 
> “In time, maybe you will grow to hate me,” Phasma says through her flat lips, an indeterminate amount of time passes with her just standing, her slender figure standing over my seated one and she almost murmurs, “You're too young to understand, Hux, but you will soon resent me for the pleasures I deprived you of. Especially, your childhood. It is preferable that you regard me in such a way.”
> 
> Those words leaving her mouth made instant sense and yet, I could not bring myself to resent her Completely as she had before stated, I instead respected her as deeply as Supreme Leader Snoke had for her talent of stripping away her weakness and devoting herself to complete control, a control thwarted by confusion and honed by anger.
> 
> The aphotic chasm within me etched itself deeper, wider twofold, so much so that I was enraged at myself for being born a human beneath a pair of loving hands, unto a society of such joyful inhabitants.

“Why do I always catch you in the midst of fighting a furious battle against no one, Kylo Ren?” I ask, he stands, both legs positioned apart, his body leaning forward and the lightsaber burning at full ferocity in his right hand, no one knows as well as I that he is matchless, “It seems you have an unfair advantage over your shadow.”

I produce a pair of electric Phrik short swords, the blades themselves are as long as the length from my elbow to the tip of my fingers, nearly impenetrable against lightsabers, I swat at the red lightsaber with the end of my blade, merely testing the extent of his focus, he swings and passes the lightsaber through the air effortlessly, as if I were nothing more than a gust of unwelcoming wind.

“My shadow is my only other peer that can match my strength,” his voice easily registers through the audio transmitter in his apparatus, maybe I sense a bit of fact in his statement, and a trace amount of determined self-confidence, none matter only that I may make my might known.

The training grounds themselves are set on the surface of the Death Star, a chamber all its own as if it were a dark edifice withstanding the strength of the sun and surrounding layers of frost, we face each other beneath the chamber's high roof – observing, awaiting the first strike of either fear or the lash of our weapons – I strip off my overcoat and officer's cap, leaving my form in only my officer's uniform and boots, my thumbs click on the electric output upon the twin blades in my grasp, both buzz to life.

“Perhaps you fear the thought of losing so much more than learning from your mistakes,” I match his stance, my arms at my side and the short blades raised against his lightsaber, I circle around his form, my boots disturbing only the acoustic layer of the training grounds' vast inner chamber, my elaboration ignites the rage easily within his precise blows, “A fine shadow it is, but how about a more animated object for a change? I promise to not be so easily outmatched.”

“I don't make mistakes,” Kylo Ren hisses, he charges at me, his lightsaber lowered and the dark tempests of his Force ready to strike.

“Show me then,” I say, the Force he uses is minimal, only that I may have the imprint upon my shoulder as he pushes me back a few paces, my stance restored, I raise both crackling short blades and evoke his legendary anger that so many grew to fear, “Put your ability on full display.”

“Against you? A feeble natural-born?” he questions, he pulls me forth into a stumble, before he can catch me off guard as his saber slices the air at a slant, I catch my balance and use both blades in my grasp to redirect his aim, successfully, my right hand fends off his upsweeping blow and I temporarily stumble away from the air-splitting momentum, “You clearly do not grasp the risk you are putting yourself in.”

I plant my left leg behind, my shoulders tensed and spine bowed forward as Kylo Ren captures me in the invisible wall of his Force, he sprints and flies toward my stilled form, my right hand catches the long red trajectory of wheeling light spiraling toward me angrily, off guard, I sweep his chest with my left blade, he easily pivots off his left foot, forcing my blades off his lightsaber and leaving me exposed.

“Danger is very minimal at the moment,” I say breathlessly, he swings vertically and I back away from the worst of the blow, he charges and uses his brute strength as I quickly deflect, the blades crackling and hissing against his lightsaber, “A droid is more a threat than You-”

He reverts on the defensive as I rain upon him strike after strike, slowly chipping away at his strength and vigor with each flickering blow, one swing I miscalculate leaves me open, and he takes a hold of my throat with his left hand – I burn in his grasp, as if molten ore were being poured down my throat and left to sear my torso in half, he is in my mind, polluting my memories and bending my will!

“Did I make you angry?” Kylo Ren hisses at me, he does not take my breath nor stills the erratic pump of my heart, he searches my mind of the present and punctuates my fear, mounting the uncertainty in my psyche as I stand paralyzed before him, “Forgive my ability to sympathize-”

> 'Sympathy.'
> 
> I had taken refuge in Phasma's private quarters for the next eight-thousand hours, we grew together as a single unit, a mind made up of two people, one whom suggested actions and the other whom enacted the suggestions, she quickly ascended the rank from a first-class Storm Trooper to commanding her own legion as they swept the galaxy of rogue Jedi pupils, she single-handedly laid waste to those Jedi-sympathizers and burned nests of rebels, she then brought me alongside so that I may be closer to the battle, only once did she ever answer a personal query that inspired many questions in my mind:
> 
> She stood upon a commander's ship, overseeing a refugee's transporter ship while I stayed at her side, watching as she spoke to each pilot, they attacked the small ship as if it were a diving fly into a pond of fire – I asked, “How had you come to be Supreme Leader Snoke's servant, Captain Phasma?”
> 
> “My brother and myself were taken as children from aboard a junker ship exporting garbage from Coruscant,” she automatically answered, Captain Phasma then commanded a wave a fighters to attack the guns at the ship's sides.
> 
> Perhaps she remembers her parents as I do, I wondered aloud, “Do you remember your parents?”
> 
> “No,” she said coldly, her anger clear, “They sold us into slavery at an early age.”
> 
> I recalled the very first time coming upon the Death Star how the acute loneliness and the potent longing poisoned my mind, I ask, “Do you miss them?”
> 
> As if striking a dead emotional cord, she turns away from the command station and addresses my query, “No.”
> 
> It is possible that I may have seen her sibling once during Desensitization, with my curiosity sparked, I ask, “Your brother?”
> 
> “When we were brought here, to the Death Star-” her pause and the flat tone emitted from her vocal transmitter confuses me, I am given the impression that she still holds Some attachment to her sibling, “-he wouldn't obey.”
> 
> Though my silence is not called for, I listen intently to her tale, though one-sided and free of opinion, I dutifully absorb every word and ignore the intentional chaos erupting just beyond our reach:
> 
> “Back then, the rules were stringent. Very strict,” she elaborated, I could feel her eyes on me through the plastiglass of her optical scanners, she was possibly gauging me for a reaction and yet I was entranced by her trickling words, alike shards of cold metal falling unto a silent sea, “Any whom did not willingly submit to Supreme Leader Snoke-”
> 
> “He refused the rations and starved until I could carry him in my arms, as tall and muscled he was, he suffered and I hated myself for being a coward,” Captain Phasma said, she gave another command before adding almost clinically, “I submitted to save myself from death and he refused to take the doses, he wasted away while I became...distant.”
> 
> I do not break her gaze, her story is one of interest and I have not encountered her past recorded in the logs, my lips move without meaning to produce sound, “Does he live?”
> 
> “To complete my training, Supreme Leader Snoke gave me a task:-” Captain Phasma leaned down near my smaller form, I look on from the interest she had instilled in me from the first syllable of her tale, perhaps I should have felt anxious if a task was laid before me by Supreme Leader Snoke, the notion that such a thing may one day be laid before me is an honor I anticipate, she quotes his words and holds all his power in her voice, “ 'If, truly, you are exempt from your humanity, I lay before you a test of your will and loyalty. The fate of your remaining blood is in your hands, do what you desire as you deem fit.' ”
> 
> “To me, he was a giant, a man made of steel and flesh, never once did I see him so small, so insignificant. Half-insane, he spoke over and over for his love for me, that I was his own daughter from the beginning of our lives-” Captain Phasma's cold words trembled through her audio transmitter, it may have been the faulty equipment, it may be that her previous Desensitization session was too brief – she spoke low and gave me my answer, “I ended his life.”
> 
> If I were a being governed by my emotions and lead by the impact of my memories, I knew that I would have wept bitterly for my parents, my destroyed legacy as a Senator's son – no tears came to my eyes, no feelings of loneliness, no warmth of love could make itself known in the burning wreckage of my rage and my pride that I have been habituated so well by a teacher as merciless as Supreme Leader Snoke himself – my respect for Captain Phasma doubled as did my promise to devote myself to her ways.
> 
> “There is no kindness in the lives we lead, Hux,” she says, her gloved hand laid atop of my shoulder, a respectful gesture lacking friendliness as she slowly turned my body toward the fiery battle scene spread before us, “I found no pity, no station fit for my only sibling, instead of suffering, I granted him peace.”
> 
> Entranced by the succession of eruptions exploding upon the ship, she said, “You remind me of him.”

“Captain Phasma has taught you well,” Kylo Ren hisses in the same self-satisfied manner that all beings do in the face of another's defeat, he constructs an illusion inside my mind, one so precarious and deep that I fall so easily for the ploy.

I feel as small and violated as a crustacean squirming down a disgusting Hutt's throat, inevitably to be dissolved within my own helplessness and tossed unto the unknown, except that it is only the power of Kylo Ren's Force showing me the way to my demise, the fog of his power clouds my thoughts, so much so that I feel as if I were nothing more than an extension of his hand, a single weak digit unable to even wiggle without being bidden to do so, yet I find myself still able to speak nothing more than a few words mirroring my discontent:

“Oh,” I whisper, my breath being rationed between keeping me alive and feeding the words that singe my lips, “So you finally notice?”

“You also inherited her weaknesses,” Kylo Ren observes the memory fragment that once beheld so much wonder that I found myself studying each word and action that passed, he lances my consciousness with another spike of damning pain, I groan through the gradually-eclipsing agony, “Human, such a fragile being whom possess easily-swayed minds.”

Before I fall into the abyss, my soul sparks, the small glint leading to the igniting of my heart, I drop the blades and take hold of his apparatus, the cold unforgiving alloy radiating his energy, I state before the black nothingness of unconsciousness claims the last of my strength, “Then destroy me if I threaten you so.”

My lips could not have moved being two stiff knots of flesh enclosing my teeth and tongue, he drops me as if I were a useless garment, Kylo Ren's form dissolves into the pitch darkness, possibly being that I could no longer stave off the sudden disappearance of his presence in my mind or that maybe I had spoken aloud, I fall to the floor, alas being free of my impuissance and fatigue.

None of my conclusions make sense, and yet there are only two possibilities for his sudden departure.


	3. Chapter 3

For a moment, disorientation takes a hold of my mind, my body complies as if it were a secondary action than one of importance, yet through all the shadow and opaque dark, I feel the slightest calm, a calm as disorienting and jarring as if I were alas being freed from pain that I had been living with my entire life, my body feels strangely of lower-density, from the invisible burden being lifted, I simply open my eyes, watching in wonder as my lids close over and just behind the thin layer of skin, a black raging body of liquid-like substance crashes in murky waves against my corneas.

Maybe it is simply a trick my brain is playing on me for staring so deeply into the pitch-dark of the training grounds' inner chamber, it may have been a memory that is simply teasing, whispering and calling alike a voiceless song:

> “Picture yourself as a lone planet, Hux,” Captain Phasma stated, her quick fingers skimmed over the plain fabric encasing my body, the darkest shades made my clothing all the more formal, she then gave me a small gift wrapped in a black cloth, I uncovered a pair of short Phrik swords, both perfectly balanced and weighing only seven-tenths a kilogram each, made from the darkest ore and sheathed within white leather, “Soundless, cold, and Supreme Leader Snoke is your axis. A lone, yet intelligent mass being pulled at Supreme Leader Snoke's beck.”
> 
> Soundlessly as told so, I dipped my chin, the strange message of Death or Protection gave me pause – did Captain Phasma intend for my confusion or did she hope to evoke a forbidden emotion?
> 
> My entire life on the Death Star under her tutelage was a test: only females were to adopt so that weeding out emotional males were but a small chore, they were also utilized as instruments to tempt us by both emotional ties and through their bodies, whether Captain Phasma was still testing me or satisfied thusfar with my unbroken training, I accepted her gift by once more nodding before I took my bestowed weapons unto my hands and fitting the sheaths unto my waist and buckling the ends unto my thighs, her voice carries a strange pitch as she whispers, “Remember, above all, Hux, that you are an Instrument. An indebted servant to the Dark Side. None shall sway your resolve.”
> 
> What is my Resolve?
> 
> It was my two-hundred-and-fifty-fifth-thousandth hour since my birth, Captain Phasma escorted me personally to the Death Star's surface where her legion of Storm Troopers awaited, four other men whom I was taught alongside accompanied their own pedagogue instructors, and suddenly, a thought occurred to me that they had never given me their names, each brought weapons also, the biggest being famous for besting all the others in our class by sheer brawn, whereas I was decidedly a little more engaged and attuned with my brain than him, Kroth.
> 
> Each of us were meant to stand two yards away from the other with our instructors standing behind, first was Kroth carrying an E-11 blaster rifle and his instructor First-Class Storm Trooper Atien, next came an unknown man having the same rifle as Kroth and his instructor First-Class Storm Trooper Iode, another nameless man sporting yet another E-11 and his instructor Assistant Pilot Kuune, to my right was an especially promising student by the name of Gars and his instructor Commander Siliak, his weapon unknown, I stood at the far left of this small parade of hand-chosen students, Captain Phasma stood at my side, her helmet and armor absent being that we were a part of a formal occasion.
> 
> We awaited, staring ahead as the white helmets and armored bodies below saw only us five, our instructors stood behind in the secrecy of the tower pinnacle's shadow, from amidst came five forms, five separate shadows closing in upon the platform, I breathed evenly, thinking over and over in my mind, '-An instrument, a servant of the Dark Side. None shall sway My resolve-'
> 
> Two were assassin droids, their alloys and garments as dark as their master's heart, the other two were mighty humanoid beings, possibly from intergalactic breeds long ago extinct since the Golden Age of the Old Republic, Dathomirian Zabrak, seeing as the pair wore elongated headdresses and facial features reminiscent to the fallen one Darth Maul, and one wore a flat-seeming apparatus beneath a hooded cloak, a new Knight of Ren graces us with his or her presence, decidedly a 'He' by his stiff gait and straight posture, he moves as if he were admiring the Death Star's spire just behind us.
> 
> A kind of pushing pull nearly throws me to the ground, and yet I stand, defiant of the radiating waves lapping alike a cold sheet of wind as the Knight of Ren paces before Kroth first, he holds out his right hand before my bovine-seeming classmate and the silence itself sucks the air right out of my lungs, he stands a moment, his voice nearly startles me as I let out a breath:
> 
> “Obedient,” the Knight of Ren states, his clear vocal transmitter serves only to goad my mind to commit this happenstance to memory, and quickly jerk my face at a forward position as he slowly looks upon our five forms, he then states as if we were the most boring lot to ever have fallen into his hands, “Unadulterated.”
> 
> From behind Kroth, First-Class Storm Trooper Atien lets out a breath, my curiosity once more takes in the next spectacle despite all my control screaming for me to face forward in obedience – the Knight of Ren paces to the next student, again, his hand raises, and my mouth goes dry, not from fear or anticipation, only because my awe and wonder seems all the more prominent in the face of the Knight of Ren, he says after a moment of silent contemplation, “Unadulterated.”
> 
> First-Class Storm Trooper Iode nods as the Knight of Ren passes unto the next student, he takes only a breath before stating, “Unadulterated.”
> 
> Gars straightens slighlty as his instructor Commander Siliak breaks her seemingly-smug gaze from Captain Phasma whom stands undisturbed at my side, I dare not move my head and allow Any movement at all to betray my absolute Need to search for a clue in the Knight of Ren's apparatus or his stature, his clothed form or even his distorted voice of his species and ancestry, I am a student devoted to perfection and historical knowledge after all – and I have found a strange oddity yet to be discovered, if only time and patience allowed.
> 
> “Strong,” he says, though his tone rises at the end of his single syllable as if he is asking a question, I know that it is the self-satisfied tone one uses whilst answering a riddle – with devastating ferocity and speed, he at once reaches at his left hip and shouts, “Traitor!”
> 
> A wild foray erupts at my side, and I can hear Captain Phasma's voice in my head as she pulls her blaster out from her own holster and aims at Commander Siliak whom lets loose a scream which pierces only my ears, she bawls and hollers as if to evoke reassurance and pity from the Knight of Ren, her scream cut amidst her burbling pleas signal her death, I stand awaiting the Knight of Ren as he sheaths his lightsaber and straightens, another Knight comes to his side and simply asks in a high-pitched monotone, “Transgressions you've sensed, Kylo Ren?”
> 
> “Misdeeds of both the flesh and emotionally compromised, Master,” his own voice is even, slightly breathy and giving off a vague understanding of his purpose here this hour and why he had bequeathed Gars and Commander Siliak death sentences – I am given little time to ponder as he strides before me, though we are nearly the same height, he seems as if to tower over me and loom as high as the spire behind me, his gloved left hand rises just centimeters away from my face, his right hand still holding the hilt of his active lightsaber, “You-”
> 
> My eyes do not move from his partially-uncovered apparatus, my lungs burn from being so still for longer than I am adaptive to, my thoughts seem as if to open, and suddenly, his presence glides freely through my mind, rifling through my memories as if they were passages upon a scroll, as if my past events were video and audio snippets from data logs – his mind adjoining mine burns, my synapses scream in agony, my eyes cloud over, my heart squeezes in his hot grasp, what he says stuns me senseless, “Weak.”
> 
> Behind me, I hear the sound of cloth brushing cloth, so miniscule that I may have missed the sound if I were not ready to attempt escaping my own psyche, Captain Phasma has seemingly fidgeted, either because I was deemed unfit for the worthy title of 'Obedient' or 'Strong'.
> 
> What then am I if not Obedient nor Strong?
> 
> “Weak,” my lips move before I can stop them, through the dense fog of pain, I hiss once more as his hands withdraws and yet his presence remains prominent and unwavering in my psyche, “ 'Weak?' ”
> 
> “Talentless,” he then rumbles, once more I hear a fidget behind me, he continues, “Unlearned. Straying. Lost.”
> 
> The aforementioned tributes in mind, I speak low enough that only us two are privy, “We shall see.”
> 
> “Determined,” his voice booms, the Knight of Ren turns his back to me, and he leaves me to wonder if his assessment of my personality is either useless or can be an advantage to Supreme Leader Snoke, though his form disappears into the shadows of the Death Star, his presence never fully leaves me, as if he were imprinted as more than a memory and slightly less than a metaphysical projection.

I pull myself up from the training grounds' flooring alas, my head pulses as my muscles vibrate, there is no such cure for being the playground of one strong with the Dark Force, it seems as if Kylo Ren has the inclination to move about in my psyche as if he were programming a droid simply for the sake of recreation in his spare time – whereas, I look behind on the events in my life before I take a step forward – my time is devoted to strategy and study, where he meditates and stares at a fossil of his past.

My uniform fits a little awkwardly due to my twisted position prior, I realign my officer's uniform and my belt, it is easy to pretend that nothing had transpired being that Nothing actually happened, my mind wanders upon Why he had left me so suddenly: Kylo Ren has no cause to fear me, though I may pose a slight threat, the punishment is most severe if I were to lay a traitorous hand upon him, so I could not have Intimidated him.

My physical might is no reason also, for he may reduce me at will to either a mere unthinking husk or a bloodied pulp.

Did I word my response prior by other means than vocal?

“Impossible!” I hiss quietly without thinking of my company, a Storm Trooper, FN-2187 I suppose he is called, temporarily halts at my side as I fume along the long corridor leading to a loading bay, where drills are being run, officers give a salute whereas the point being that I am too angry to return their formalities, “There can't-!”

Vaguely, my legs carry me, and it is a miracle within itself how I had not run into anyone or anything, my heavy mind bore too many questions and observations that left me half a mind to concentrate on the direction my feet led me, awareness came in the form of a strange entity, as if being the waking bell from my trance, my eyes beheld a strange twist of marred metal and crystallized bone, one similar and resembling Kylo Ren's apparatus, suddenly, strangely, an invisible power took a hold of my fingers.

“There is no such Thing!” so urgently, so acutely, my insatiable curiosity guided my hands to the object set in the very center of a table, as if it were either a treasured item or an item bearing memories of a certain event, a certain person, I whispered to myself as I felt the mass' weight in my hands as I hauled the object closer to my gaze, “Is there?”

> Upon my two-hundred-and-sixtyith-thousandth hour since my birth, I stood in a different uniform, not in the armor of a Storm Trooper nor the plain uniform of a shipmates', but one of distinction, my rank had been granted to Commander, and I swore to myself my undying allegiance to Supreme Leader Snoke, his cause and his devotion to the Dark Side, my latest Desensitization session shed the last of my humanity and my loyalty tested in the form of taking a band of Resistance fighters prisoner, all was settled and final before the last Rebel was comatose from having information beaten from their unwilling selves.
> 
> “ 'Weak,' ” I said to no one in particular as I stood at the head of my own legion, Captain Phasma herself was at my side, my eyes passed over the shining white helmets and came to rest upon Captain Phasma, my satisfaction clear at the thought of Kylo Ren being indisposed and my ultimate triumph, “Whom is weaker now, Captain Phasma?”
> 
> Her helmet turns as she looks upon me, she then stated factually, “Don't let the power go to your head too quickly, General Hux. You still have much to learn of your post.”
> 
> “I think that I have proven myself to be a worthy leader already,” my cheeks pull and tense, almost as if memorizing and mimicking a redolent smile, yet I can only grimace for the fact that the air from my triumph had been taken, and I feel almost foolish for stating my victory so early, I then contemplate sternly, “But I will heed your warning.”
> 
> Captain Phasma is then put at ease, my answer truthful to a degree, she knows how at times I may slightly embellish truths for the sake of placating and encouraging Storm Troopers, and now, whilst I allow her to openly scan me for a lie, I make none so she sees – we stand prone in the midst of pomp and celebration lacking the initial jubilation, our event is somber, final, my commitment to a life of strict discipline and unwavering allegiance to Supreme Leader Snoke's word – I cannot wish for a more fulfilling position in life for one bequeathed to me so inundated with promise.
> 
> In the corner of my eye as I take note of all in attendance, a tiny flash, a retreating shadow quickly passes by, just behind the furthest pair of Storm Troopers at the very far end of my legion, my whisper is merely an exhalation beneath my breath, “Kylo Ren.”
> 
> The event taking place, in Kylo Ren's critical eyes, may be one simply of decoration and unnecessary ceremony, yet to me, the circumstance itself is the outcome of my years of proven loyalty marked by success and this ascendance in rank being my unquestionable stigma – does he feel as if I am unworthy of the title of Commander?
> 
> Is Kylo Ren doubtful of my strength?
> 
> Or is he ashamed to be an inferior compared to my higher status?
> 
> “Do I intimidate you, Kylo Ren?” I ask, once out of the quibbling eye of Captain Phasma, he is strolling upon the surface of the Death Star when I come upon him, he strikes an anger deep in my core that all too soon my words are both poisoned and scratched into the air by my sudden need to make my anger known, “Does it so pain you to trust me?”
> 
> The air is at once disturbed by his auditory disruption, he makes no action to halt his pacing, so I follow after, “Why invest my belief in one so incompetent and unable to-”
> 
> “Because I demand it,” my voice hitches and is empowered by cutting off his answer, I almost expect his lightsaber to be planted within my chest, yet find none within six paces of my torso, the sense of danger and thrill of having the source near makes me feel as if I had already claimed a private victory.
> 
> “Who knows how long you may withstand the pull of the Light, General Hux,” he states, his words pound a hot gust of shame through my being, unconsciously, I reach for my handheld blaster only to tighten my right fist against my waist, “Surely, not for an eternity.”
> 
> “Your fate will not befall me,” I say easily through the tight enclosure of my grimace, and for a split second, the tiny sideways sway of his apparatus betrays his unaffected air, I have broken into the confidence of the Knight of Ren and my own explanation only holds very little power to affect Kylo Ren, “I may not hold power to fling objects in either direction, but I do possess the power to defy Your expectations.”
> 
> “How reassuring,” he offhandedly remarks, once more, my right fist hits my waist, he basks in my torment with the surety of another insult, “In the event, and I mean eventually, that you Do succumb – rest assured, I will be there to watch.”
> 
> “Fitting that it should be you to make a threat aimed at my loyalty,” if my emotions were not dead already, I swore that his remark could Almost make me laugh bitterly.
> 
> “I see you find comfort in calling my prophecy a 'threat',” he paces ahead, collecting my attention with each stride, leaving me to follow or face inescapable confusion, “You should have never ascended the rank, General Hux. The fall may be hard borne from your own hands.”
> 
> “Spare me the pleasantries and tell me, truly, why I threaten you so,” I hiss, my controlled temper strained beyond my limits, “Long enough have I endured you picking around my mind like a scavenger. Do I possess some irresistible secret that my thoughts are always interrupted?”
> 
> “I find you repulsive,” he states, Kylo Ren's voice only strikes finality into his decision rather than anticipation, “Uninteresting.”
> 
> “Just my sentiments exactly,” I spit, we pace along the snowy route to the Death Star's entryway, “Stay out of my head.”
> 
> “It is not my place to go barging into minds that do not open themselves to my probing already, much less one readily at my command,” his tone is even, accusatory, and openly displaying his disregard for my thousands of hours of duty-bound efforts – the traffic in my mind pauses, I instantly hate the fact that now at this moment, Kylo Ren may be in control of my every movement and thought, yet I fight the notion and further steel myself for his next question, “What do you want me to see so badly that you cannot keep your thoughts to yourself?”
> 
> “My complete resentment for you, I think I've made adequately clear upon more than one occasion,” I hiss through my teeth, my mind scrambles within the confines of my skull as I search out his presence, and I find him, in the very center passing along my psyche with his probing fingers.
> 
> “On the contrary, General Hux, though not far from your explanation,” he passes through a corridor, I follow, in the dim expectancy that I will prove my rightfulness to the Dark Side once and for all, in turn stealing his dastardly words from his very mouth – yet he says so easily that I am struck speechless, “You want my approval. Quite possibly, my sympathy.”
> 
> “Not at all,” I instantly bark – a spark lights in my mind at the admonition, as if two impossible pieces had finally fit together after contemplation, and much to my despair, be it the prodding of his mind upon my own, I find bitter acceptance in the secrecy of myself that his statement is in the least bit true – I fight his sentiments with my own, “I want you to understand and acknowledge that I am Better than you.”
> 
> We pass along a particularly deserted sector of the Death Star, which I prefer if my shame were to be spewed off in public, he asks, “In what ways?”
> 
> Impudent prince!
> 
> “I might not be able to use the Force, but I am capable-” I state beneath my breath being that the particular corridors we occupy carry such sounds down to the barest whisper – very little of the Force is known to me, the small vague tome that I do remember is that there are two: Light and Dark, where there is Light, the Dark is never far behind, where Dark festers, Light accompanies to soothe the wounds left behind, and lastly that both are constantly at odds, one never able to have peace without clashing with the other – the tenor in my voice spits each consonant as I strike him with a barb of my own, “I can hold power in my grasp without needing to usurp it from thin air.”
> 
> “Understand that I simply Conduct the Force rather than have it bestowed unto me,” Kylo Ren paces on far ahead, the hall opens until we are in an alcove overlooking the new crop, cells full of children of all species, each shut in and suffering the absence of company, and telling by their comatose states, it is their tenth sleep cycle since their capture – his gloved finger points out a child neither asleep in their cot nor staring at the blank wall where a small diversion takes place, the child's clear blue eyes catch my own and my heart feels as if it had dropped out of my chest and rests against the cold floor – Kylo Ren seizes the boy in his clutches though we are more than a fifth of a kilometer away, his flat voice preludes my fear of being witness to a power I had not once seen in the true and unadulterated horror, “Too much, too human. It must be such a burden to bear, General Hux. For your condition alone, I cannot find the like within me to sympathize.”
> 
> And so he tests his might upon a helpless human before an audience?
> 
> My mind is as if a body of water were slowly freezing over, from the calm mirrored surface springs razor sharp needles of ice – so I am helpless, only able to watch as the child is lifted from the capsule, the little face showing signs of half-realized terror, and-
> 
> “General Hux-” an officer's voice at my side pulls my eyes away from the child, I give my full attention, “Captain Phasma calls for you.”
> 
> Before leaving Kylo Ren to his activities, I pass a glance upon the child whom is a lump slumbering peacefully upon the provided mattress, is the child alive simply because Kylo Ren does not find amusement in making lesser life forms squirm or does the child still breathe merely because Kylo Ren thinks along the lines of providing more Storm Trooper stock?
> 
> Free of the grip on my conscious, I take my leave whilst hissing in his direction, my manner of speaking leaving a possible nick of doubt in his logic, “Watch how a true leader holds power!”
> 
> “Upon the backs of a Thousand Storm Troopers,” as if shrugging, Kylo Ren answers, I continue my quick unerring pace along the walkway, “My lack of sympathy still stands.”
> 
> I dare not resort to name-calling for the sake of not giving his statements validation, and soon I discover that my voice, though purposefully at times muted, is as powerful a tool as Kylo Ren's lightsaber; he may hold the power to instill fear, whereas I hold the power to persuade.

“What is wrong with me?” I ask myself, my hands drawing back toward my body before I have the ancient apparatus within reach, unsure sensations of doubt and anticipation explodes in my mind, as if warning me of movement just steps away, almost without thinking, my feet carries me quickly out of the private quarters I had unknowingly invaded and along the deserted corridor, as if I were treading atop icy electrified tiles, my spine tingled as did my shoulders from the simple fear of discovery, at last within the four walls of my own private quarters, I vaguely felt my body hit the wall and slide down upon the tiles, the only words coming out broken and amazed, I said, “There is nothing to fear.”

Perhaps I had seen something noteworthy and yet as all-knowing as the Force itself?

If then, What did I see that was so...?

...So...?

The confusion saps me all at once of my clear thinking, my train of thought interrupted by the same anticipation that had just previously chased me from the private quarters – I usually do not pry upon others' whom are protected by their records of their Desensitization sessions, but it seemed that this One door in particular interested me to the point of nearly enslaving my mind from my inescapable curiosity – and yet  
Why did I go so willingly into the obviously forbidden quarters?

Was it all at once the power of my wonder that led me astray or was I caught in a moment of weakness against my own lapse in judgment?

Still, the similarities between the apparatus' astounded me, the one warped and burned was obviously an earlier model, and -?!

“Does-” before I could catch my breath, I spoke aloud, as if to expel doubt and declare my abundance of evidence, or lack thereof, my body rose shakily, my skin perspired as profusely as if I were running drill sets, and slowly, gradually, my legs moved as my feet landed upon the tile, this simple motion seemed to placate me and reorder my thoughts into an coherent fashion, “Quite possibly, does Supreme Leader Snoke understand the implications?”

A scandal!

Of all things untold, unheard, unseen – a Scandal involving the surviving princess General Leia Organa, and the lost prince Luke Skywalker – and undoubtedly, Kylo Ren has ties to the late Darth Vader!

“If he doesn't-” my movement becomes more erratic, free of order or aim, only that my mind is working at a frantic pace to piece together even more puzzles which had once fit together and now has become an especially Grander scheme – I had once read Kylo Ren's historical log, and only a statistic was written with utmost care and confidence 'fifty-point-one chance of Nonconformity' – this place, once a dead planet where only schedules fit and statistics made the most of decisions, the Death Star is now a growing chasm where only myself and Kylo Ren stand at opposite sides, “-I may be in for a promotion if he is made aware of Kylo Ren's transgressions.”

And whom is to fall first?

Since when did I take up talking to myself?

“How dastardly,” at once, my mind is a bottle of trapped lightning, too many ideas, so little for outlet, too little information, and yet holding the power to bring down a portion of the First Order – if only I were to harness Proof of a single unforgivable Transgression that my plan would be brought into motion – having this information within my grasp is almost dreamlike, almost as if I were living half a nightmare within a Knight of Ren's hold, I state to myself, “How absolutely favorable.”

I am too young to have a cardiac arrest, too fit for a malfunctioning heart valve, and yet, my chest is aflame, burning, twisting and contorting within my ribcage – is This my last act as General, to die of a stopped heart?

Have I not already passed my physical wellness exam and been given a life-expectancy rate of a million-and-fifty-two-thousand hours?

How much time had I wasted within Kylo Ren's private quarters?

How long have I gone without a scheduled Desensitization session?

Surprisingly, my own mind answered, 'Does it matter?'

It was so much easier to spend time being a part of a collective whom strove for only three things: Smite the Resistance, obey Supreme Leader Snoke, and devote ones' self to the Dark Side.

And yet...within the unordered chaos, through the lancing squeezing pain in my chest, the fire in my spirit...I am more than calm.

Though fear is still present, the anger I had posed within myself upon myself has diminished until it is merely a Remembered sensation rather than a Present sensation, so long had I been enraged that for a moment my mind is blank, standing still upon its own strength, and suddenly, too quickly, I hear, “My son. My beautiful darling son...”

As if in a trance, my head nods up, my eyes shoot from the floor, my eyes scan the blank dark slats of wall and flooring for the source of the voice I had once known, the gentle female lilt and high toned cadence told of Chandrila's accent, her voice called to me, and alike a lost child blindly poking into the night, I answered, “Mother-?”

I dropped unto my knees, the pain throbbing within my kneecaps, I crawl and scrabble miserably, my eyes straining upon each corner and possible area of interest, where there were none, I shot to my feet and threw my heat-reflective covers off my paddock, as if expecting the owner of the voice to be present within the scant nothingness of air, no mysteries held upon each linear corner nor the space occupied only by oxygen, my mind denied everything it recalled, and I held just a thread's width of sanity.

It's a trick!

Kylo Ren plays games with my mind!

Those thoughts running laps as I tried, attempted, to write off the laughter which sounded alike bubbles gurgling from a lake's surface, I recall so many happy sensations, rapturous anticipation, gleeful peace, sunlight filtering in through my stained-glass window and echos of light showing upon Chandrila's night sky, as if the clouds and stars themselves lent their splendor in times of darkness.

“The indignity, the agony-!” my voice is nothing more than a hiss, as a vice with serrated edges cuts me deep within, skinning me, peeling me inside out, tearing out my core and a black hole appears in the center of my skull, it's powerful pull so firm and coaxing that I cannot run, cannot resist, cannot escape, “-how he plays cruel tricks!”

My own skin is squeezing me to death, my bones are snapping within my sinew, my sinew is twitching, my nerves relay only wave after wave of fresh agony, my mind is turning into gruel beneath the onslaught, I cannot think, I cannot move, I do not understand...

“Sir,” my eyelids are heavy, glued against my eyes and stuck together, though I will my eyelids to retract, it seems a momentous effort as I juggle listening to the voice, following the voice through winding pathways and until rooms in my mind, alas, I see a face above my own, the lighting is directly in my eyes, I blink angrily and the officer dims the lighting, he asks, “Are you unwell?”

I feel as if I had been pulled abruptly from the battlefield unto a gurney, yet I keep my scratchy voice even, for the sake that I know my station is higher than any whom is present within the hospital sector of the Death Star, I question him for even my mind does not possess an answer which quite Fits my situation, “What is my diagnosis?”

“Simple chemical imbalance, General Hux,” he says evenly, he reads my blank stare as a query, his fingers search my arm, he deftly pulls out a needle and hands me a sanitized gauze for me to hold over my tiny wound, I comply and compress against my right arm, he continues, “It seems that your body has developed a resistance against the orally-taken supplements and is also rejecting audio-visual stimulation of the Desensitization procedure.”

I dare not show any fear before my insubordinate, it is only fitting that I suffer within the privacy of my mind if my quarters are more than an hour's walk, my voice had regained a little strength after I had swallowed the saliva clinging to my tongue, “Nothing of concern, then.”

“Yes, and no. It seems that you were put under too much stress to report to Desensitization in a prompt fashion,” his answer vexes me, my eyes narrow and he adds respectfully, “Forgive me if I am too forward, but you will need a corrective procedure performed. Soon. Within the next ninety hours at the latest. I will personally see to preparations in your absence.”

In my experience, many occupants of the Death Star had undergone 'corrective procedures' and never once had I been ignored by them, they healed as well as any can wish under their dispossessed circumstances, they followed orders as if they were servant droids – and though I should have been comforted by the act of committing myself fully to Supreme Leader Snoke and the order of the Dark Side, my mind began to go numb and my nerves scream their dread, I ask and strain to filter out his answer from the howling behind my eardrums, “I cannot take any more oral doses?”

“Unfortunately, your cognitive organ has been strained during your...” the officer takes note of the sudden lurch of my arm as he reaches for me, it seems that my body had conceived a mind of its own and tried evasive maneuvering instead of trusting the officer as I once had – he was one of the earlier Storm Troopers before he was selected for the hospital sector, I never once questioned his diagnosis nor ever took to predetermining my fear of being under his care and supervision – he then reaches after his pause to roll down my uniform jacket, he continues his explanation, “-seizure. Are you well enough without Desensitization or do you feel that it will strain you further?”

He speculates my facial tics carefully, memorizing as much as he can of my fault – I ask evenly, “If I take any more 'strain', what then of my wellness?”

“You will be psychologically absent, General Hux,” he turns his face slightly to the side, as if wondering why I was suddenly asking so many questions whereas being that I had an unbroken schedule of corrective quarantines after battles, and too soon, a prominent realization came to light, the officer's 'corrective procedure' Worried me, I feared for the Aftermath than the procedure itself, he elaborates though I hear only snippets of sound, “Unable to even blink or form simple sense relation protocols, were you to try.”

“Under your recommendation, officer, am I to be confined to my room until further notice?” I ask, leaving no pause for him to catch me pinching my eyebrows or scrunching my nose in barely-hidden disgust.

“I am afraid so, General Hux,” he steps away as I rise from the bed, he sets down a list of rules before I depart, “Avoid strenuous activities, drink plenty of water and rest how ever much you can manage.”

“Consider your perimeters noted,” I say, mimicking myself enough that all traces of suspicion and disbelief are wiped away in an instant.

“Of course, sir,” he salutes as per custom from an officer to their superior, he adds before I make the dangerous mistake of sprinting out of the wing rather than striding purposefully, “The deck will have your assistant appointed temporarily to your station.”

I serve Supreme Leader Snoke, the Dark Side, the First Order, and yet, I cannot bring myself to accept being a human transplanted with a droid's verbobrain – disagreement of the surgeon's diagnosis means having my brain desecrated and paralyzed, resisting the Dark Force means death, refusing to accept my fate also means death – with no where to turn, I decide that I should spend my time studying:

What is affection?

What is serenity?

What is 'Copulation'?

My last question gives me pause, I wonder why it is so forbidden, why we must abstain from being so close to one another, why even the slightest hint of this unforgivable transgression meant death – my body breaks out into a running sprint as I find myself Wanting to know all and everything about 'Copulation'.

Did I ever want anything so badly to risk my own life?

Especially if the source was a Transgression against the First Order?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long, i was writing This chapter & the finale of 'Human/Creature/Beast' XP

**Author's Note:**

> Hux's history is made up, so if things change in the next film, don't expect me to be an expert on Star Wars. XP
> 
> the next chapters will be longer & more...about Hux, bear with me XD


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